


I'll Always Wait for You

by Kellyrages



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, dragon age 3
Genre: F/M, Solas Romance, The Fade, The Veil, dragon age 3 - Freeform, dragon age inquisitor in pain, dragon age magic, solas loves the inquisitor, solas x f!inquisitor, the inquisitor in pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 12:28:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyrages/pseuds/Kellyrages
Summary: The Inquisitor is severely injured in a battle, a few months after defeating Corypheus and Solas disappearance. She knows she's dying, she only wishes to see Solas one last time before it's too late.





	1. Chapter 1

The Inquisitor sits along the edge of the waterfall, her hands in her lap. She gazes down at the water hundreds of feet below her, the soft breeze moving the hair that brushes her face. It's peaceful in this dream, whereas her real life is so chaotic.

She clenches her hands, thinking about what awaits her when she wakes. Pain, she's injured, this rest is a weak respite. She's pretty sure she passed out, and honestly, she's tired. She defeated Corypheus, she sealed the rift in the Veil. She freed Thedas, she leads the Inquisition with the aid of those around her, and yet --- everything is starting to take its toll.

The entire Inquisition, it feels so... pointless, now.

She's lost herself somewhere in it, and she doesn't know how to recover who she is. Perhaps that's just her stressed mind, her brain trying to comprehend everything that's happening. She knows how badly injured she is, collapsing and entering the Fade proves that much to her.

It should still be daylight, and she never enters the Fade till usually dawn, when she's finally able to sleep.

The Inquisitor sighs, leaning back on her hands. Her left is aching again, the mark is getting worse; even in her sleep she can't forget about it. She lifts up her palm, seeing the green, ethereal glow of it.

She can never find peace.

She tries, she puts on a good facade for the others, although she's sure Cassandra can see through it if none of the rest can. She feels so... lost, now. 

Incomplete.

What's the point?

Should she die from her wound, than all will be fine. Another will take the lead of the inquisition, will lead it in whatever direction it's meant to go. 

The Inquisitor looks down, at the rocks beneath her feet, the forest thriving below her. She's not sure where she is, not that it matters. She leans forward a little bit, gazing downward. She could just fall, lean just a little more.

Oh, but what would be the point?

She raises her eyes, searching the world around her. It's a habit she's picked up, she's looking for him, Fen'Harel. The Dread Wolf of Elvhen lore, the one creature she longs to see more than anyone else in the world.

He left her, all by herself. She's hurt, she's angry, she wants to see him again, scream at him at how unjust his actions were! She's not a fool, she understands everything she's lost, everything he did when that orb was lost during the battle with Corypheus.

She can connect the dots herself.

She watches as the Fade ripples, and she cringes, looking down at her green-glowing hand.

She's going to wake up soon, but she doesn't want too. She clings to the Fade, to peace, forcing herself to remain just a few minutes longer. The Inquisitor slowly climbs to her feet, rocks crumbling along the edge of where she stands. She turns, looking at the waterfall, but it doesn't roar like one in the real world, really she barely notices it.

She walks towards it, seeing the green moss sprawling along its banks, the rocks reaching out of the water to disrupt its flow. She kneels, dipping her burning hand into the cool water, shivering. She's not cold, but her body is in pain, and she can feel the sweat building on her skin.

She wonders if she'll survive or not.

She wonders if Solas will even notice.

She'd confessed her love to him, something she had never done before. 

And he had rejected her.

No, not because he didn't feel the same way, because... of his own demons.

She wraps her arms around herself, feeling herself start to shake. Her hand is still burning, still that ghastly green, getting worse the more she looks at it. She just wants peace, just for a little while.

Can the world not give her that?

She never asked to be the Inquisitor, she never asked to lead any fight. She was at the wrong place at the wrong time, she was suffering and it wasn't her choice. She rarely hears her own name anymore, half the time she forgets she even has one. She's a person, an Elf, not just the leader of the Inquisition.

She never used to be so sentimental. She had no problem before, she fought, she was strong, she was admirable.

She doesn't even know herself now.

She feels so weak, pathetic, and her pain is only growing worse.

Her eyes scan the treeline on the other side of the river, still looking for him. She sees him sometimes, her lover gazing at her from a distance, always in the form of a wolf. Sometimes she doesn't know if it's her imagination, or if he's really checking on her. Whenever she approaches him, he merely disappears.

It's a form of torture she wishes he'd stop, and yet always continue.

"Solas," she sighs, the wind carrying her voice like a whisper. She feels it brush her hair off her burning skin. She doesn't feel well, and she's heard spirits always go to the Fade when their physical bodies are on the brink.

Maybe she's going to die.

She can't quite remember what happened now, just that there had been some skirmish. She, Dorian, Bull and Varric had been traveling, between meetings for what the Inquisition should be now that the war is over.

Should it remain itself? Be disbanded?

So many different paths for it.

She guesses she won't be around to see it.

She tightens her grip around herself, leaning forward slightly as pain ripples faintly through her body. She can see her reflection in the water, her pointed ears peeking from beneath her plaited hair, the tip of her hair brushing the stream, creating ripples.

She's so tired.

Her large eyes gaze back at her, the color of emeralds, framed by long, thick lashes. She has a scar just beneath her eye, from a wound that had nearly cost her her sight. Solas had helped her mend then, had given healing advice and fixed her tonics until she had nothing but a reminder of what could have been.

She should have been suspicious of him then.

"Solas," she murmurs longingly, resigned. She'll die before she ever sees his face, before she ever feels his touch against her skin once more. He will never return to her, not willingly, not while she knows he has some other plans.

Still, it would have been nice to see him one last time.

The Inquisitor whimpers as she leans forward, pressing her forehead against her knees as more pain assaults her body, more urgent, more crippling. Her side is hurting, her chest --- she's never been in such pain before.

She reaches down, digging her fingers into the false earth, nails clawing at the ground. 

If she dies, what will happen? She will become a spirit, free to travel the Fade --- she knows she will not find peace, not even then. She will find Solas, and she will wait for him, just as she promised herself she would find him.

Perhaps death will be the answer to that, after all.

"Inquisitor!"

No!

She doesn't want to hear that anymore!

She doesn't want to be the Inquisitor!

She shakes her head at the word, hearing it ring through her mind. 

She raises her head slightly, her breath shuddering through her lips. She gazes into the running water, reaching forward once more. She's always loved water, the feel of it as it rushes past her skin, how it can take any form, go anywhere. Water is free, ever moving, ever shifting.

Perhaps she can be like that.

She senses something, and raises her eyes to the other side of the river.

Ah, that wolf. It's silver, gazing at her, with eyes too familiar for comfort.

"Ma ghilana mir din'an, elgar." she murmurs, gazing at it. Guide me into death, spirit.

The wolf does not move, just gazes at her.

Funny, how familiar those eyes are.

What she would give...

"Garas quenathra?" she questions after a moment, asking this wolf why he has come to her. If he is to guide her on, she wishes for him to do so quickly. If not, leave her be, let her go in peace.

She sighs, looking away from him wearily. She's so very tired, she just wants rest. She shuffles, slowly letting herself drop onto her side, the cool moss cradling her body as her eyes wander closed. She should not be able to feel this way in the Fade, perhaps she's not even there. Perhaps this is all just in her mind, none of it's true.

Her eyes lower, all she can see is the faint glowing of green, of her cursed hand. The mark is not the death of her, how ironic.

"Azelia."

Her name.

It's nice to hear it spoken, to not hear her title for once.

"Azelia!"

Hmm?

Her eyes open slightly, seeing the world has suddenly darkened, become less beautiful. She tilts her head just a little, her eyes tracing his outline.

"Solas," she murmurs, seeing his familiar face. She must be close to death than to imagine him, he is so clear. She raises her marked hand, her fingers trailing down his cheek, feeling how warm it is.

"What has happened to you?" he murmurs, her fingers slipping through hers. She feels his arm curl beneath her body, lifting it up against his. Oh, he feels nice, that comforting scent... "Why are you here, ma vhenan?"

"I'm injured," she murmurs, pressing her face into his chest. His clothing is strange to her, not his normal plain robes. No, this thick fur, this gold armor... he looks so nice. "I believe."

"You do not know if you are injured?" Solas fingers caress her cheek, and she turns into his touch.

"I do not know anything anymore, Solas." she whispers, feeling the world ripple again, this time more dangerously than before. Solas raises his head, realizing he might have come too late to her head. He knows when she enters the Fade, he always can sense her.

This time, he'd thought perhaps she was napping, he'd been busy, he couldn't just appear to see her.

He should never have left her.

"Azelia," he turns her head, her eyes slowly raising to his. "You must hold on for me. You must be strong, and fight this."

"I don't want to fight this. Ir abelas."

"Do not be sorry, ma vhenan. This is my fault to bear," Solas murmurs, shifting her more in his arms. She's fading quickly, her physical form is close to its death. He has to do something, he will not let her die like this.

He left her at the last battle, he left her to lead the Inquisition, to keep it as strong and formidable as she could. She can fight any battle, defeat any foe, and always he had found, she came back to him. Knowing his faults, despite leaving her, she still looks for him in the Fade.

"Fen'Harel, lathbora viran." she murmurs, longing for her lost love. Solas eyes draw to her face, tensing as he hears that name. 

"Azelia."

"I know who you are, Solas. I can see more than what you think," she murmurs, her pale fingers caressing his skin. She smiles softly, one she always reserved just for him. "I don't care."

Solas feels sadness sweep through him, his shoulders feeling weighed.

"Where are you, ma vhenan? I will come to you," he whispers, pressing his lips against her forehead. Faint memories travel into his mind, his eyes suddenly glowing the brightest white she has ever seen. He can see the surprise battle, how she lunged in front of Dorian, taking the arrow to her waist instead of letting him take it to the chest. He recognizes the stretch of road, the surroundings --- he can find her.

His lips lift, his eyes drawing down to hers.

"I will find you, I will be with you soon. You must wait for me, Azelia. You must hold on." he says softly, raising his head as the world around him ripples again. It's darkening, the blue sky turning gray, the trees starting to crumple, blacken.

"Wait for me," he clasps her face, eyes still glowing faintly. "Wait for me."

'I'll always wait for you," she murmurs.


	2. You Found Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Inquisitor is dying, her body holding on only thanks to the magic of the mages. Her fellow allies worry what will happen if she dies.

Cassandra gazes at the Inquisitor from the doorway of the small room. She knows death when she sees it, she is no fool. She feels great sadness as the looks upon the Elf that has been her friend for so long now, that has stood by her side and defended the world against its greatest threat.

The Inquisitor had been returned to Skyhold, Dorian carrying her unconscious form in his arms. They'd been racing towards the safety of the castle, pursued by their attackers. The guards at the walls had driven the enemies back, letting the small group enter the safety of the castle's walls. She had immediately been rushed to the mages chambers, but even than, her condition had been dire.

She was poisoned, it's running through her veins even now. None of the mages are strong enough to dispel it, not with all their magic combined. They stand at the Inquisitors bed side even now, circling her. White magic sparks like lightening, striking at their hands, their words a hushed chant. They're trying again, trying to keep the poison at bay. No one knows what to do, how to help her.

Dorian is beside himself, blaming himself for her injury, for her inevitable death. Bull is trying to comfort him, but it's to no avail.

Cassandra knows what is going to happen.

She sees the disappointment on the mages faces as they finish their spell, realizing that they have failed again. There's hushed whispers, but Cassandra has seen enough.

The Inquisitor deserves peace now.

"That is enough," Cassandra says, her voice ringing sharply through the room. She steps forward, her polished armor clinking. "Leave her in peace. You've done all you can."

"But, if we do ---." The mages all hesitate; they're exhausted, they've been trying for hours now. They've kept her alive through the night, she should have passed on hours after her injury.

"I know, but let her find peace if that is her fate." Cassandra shakes her head, stepping between them to the bedside of her friend. The Inquisitor is ghastly pale, her skin gleams with sweat. She's been stripped of her armor, her braided hair trailing across one of the pillow. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly, her veins appear on her skin in black lines.

For all she's been through, this is what she will not survive. Is her life really to end in such a way, defending a friend? It's admirable, honorable, and her loss will be felt all across Thedas. Still, Cassandra does not want this, but she's sent ravens to all her contacts, she's poured over the books in the library. She still does not know what this poison is, she cannot find a cure for it.

And now, even if they did know, they would never be able to create an antidote in time.

Her attackers have completely disappeared, she supposes their goal completed.

The mages all leave the room, their shoulders slumping in defeat.

Cassandra is quiet, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I am sorry this has happened to you, Inquisitor." She murmurs, her gaze running over the exhausted body in front of her. The mark on the Inquisitors hand is glowing, the light crawling up her arm.

Cassandra knows it's been getting worse, she's seen the Inquisitor try to hide her pain. She's been secluding herself more, putting on a facade so no one worries, but that doesn't fool the Right Hand of the Divine.

She's been in pain much longer than anyone knew.

The Inquisitor turns her head, mumbling incoherently. She's spoke Solas name once, very plainly, and Cassandra felt her heart twist. The elf leaving had caused more pain than any physical wound, and it's one the Inquisitor has never recovered from. She mourns his loss, she searches for him, she still sends out scouts, trying to find the missing elf.

She loves him, their relationship was apparent to anyone with eyes. Cassandra had thought that Solas returned the Inquisitors affections, she'd thought he loved the elf, he was so protective and respectful of her.

Alas, even Cassandra can be wrong at times.

The Inquisitor shuffles again, her eyes opening for a brief second, glazed and milky. She's muttering again, writhing against the bed sheets clinging to her skin. If she moves too much, she'll reopen her wound, which, though not anything that should have been fatal, had caused her to lose a lot of blood.

Cassandra hesitates, her chest aching as she sees the pain her friend is in. She wants to do something, anything, to make her pain go away, to help! It's not fair for this life to end in such a way!

"How is she?"

Cassandra glances behind her, seeing Dorian hovering in the doorway. The normally well-dressed mage looks ragged, his eyes red and swollen. Bull hovers anxiously behind him, taking up the doorway. He'll have to turn sideways if he wishes to fit into the room.

"She is unwell, Dorian. I am not sure how much longer she has." Cassandra will not lie, it's too bad for that. She has no comforting words to offer Dorian as he steps forward, gazing down at the Elf before him. "Everyone should say their last words if they have any, she doesn't have long. The mages can do nothing for her."

"This should not have happened," Dorian mutters. His hand starts forward, but he stops himself, recoiling. He doesn't want to touch her, the guilt eating at him is too much. He doesn't want to cause her more pain, it's breaking him in half to see her this way. "This is all my fault."

"Do not think like that, kadan," Bull rumbles from the doorway. "This is not your fault, it is our enemies. She saved your life because you are her friend and she treasures you. Her sacrifice will not go forgotten."

"We need to hunt down those who did this and make an example of them," Cassandra mutters, her dark hair falling into her face as she finally looks away from the elf. She crosses her arms, gazing at the stone floor. "Show what happens when they injure one of our comrades."

"I can send my Chargers out, they'll find them." Bull says, still outside the door. "We will find them and bring them here for justice."

"Do so. Do not kill any of them," Cassandra warns, her voice growing dark. "I want to make sure they get appropriate justice."

Bull nods, his eyes lingering on the Elf before he disappears down the hallway.

"You should get Sera and Cole," Dorian sniffles after a moment, holding himself. "They'll want to say goodbye."

"Cole already knows, he's secluded himself to her tower and refuses to come down. He can hear her, he said, calling for Solas in the Fade." Cassandra sighs, pressing her hand against her eyes, rubbing them.

"Damned Elf," Dorian says, his eyes narrowing slightly. "He left her brokenhearted when she needed him most."

"We don't know his reasonings, Dorian."

"We don't have too, he is a coward." Dorian spits, finally feeling something other than guilt. Anger rolls through his body, making his blood boil as he clenches his fists. "He should be here for her and he isn't."

Cassandra sighs, but she offers no more argument.

She feels the same as Dorian.

They both look at the Inquisitor as she makes a pained sound, her hand suddenly reaching out, clenching into the sheets as the mark flares once more.

"I don't know which is causing her more pain," Cassandra says helplessly. She goes around the bed, hesitantly closing her cold palm around the glowing hand. "She's been in pain for a few months now, but she's been hiding it. The mark has been getting worse."

"Why hasn't she said anything?" Dorian demands, pressing one knee on the edge of the bed. He reaches forward, his fingers lightly pressing against her damp shoulder. She's starting to move around too much, already her bandages are a faint red.

"She doesn't want any of us to worry."

"So foolish," he mutters, pressing a little harder. She's squirming, her eyes are opening and closing, but she's seeing nothing. She's speaking in Elven now, leaving both of her friends at a loss of what she's saying.

"Shit, hold her down!" Cassandra gasps as the Inquisitor begins to thrash, reaching desperately to hold the Elf, who has never been so strong.

"What's happening?" she hears someone cry, and she looks over, seeing Cullen dart into the room. He's been pacing in the hallway for the last hour, wanting to come in, see what's happening, but unsure of what he should do. He wants to offer some sort of comfort, keep up to date, but he's never felt more useless.

"Help us hold her down! Close the door!" Cassandra barks, her expression pained as she sees red begin to soak through the Inquisitors bandages as they wrap around her waist. "She's ---."

"She's dying," Dorian gasps, his voice sounding choked. The Inquisitor fights their grip, thrashing wildly despite the three of them attempt to hold her still. She's in pain, her voice is growing hoarse as she expresses the torture she's feeling. 

Cassandra feels tears well in her eyes as the Inquisitor screams until she's hoarse, blackness crawling across her body as the poison starts to consume her. She can see it on her companions faces, how white Cullen's suddenly is, how broken Dorian looks; they all know what's about to come.

No doubt the entirety of Skyhold can hear her.

The Inquisitor gasps out fractured Elven, the veins in her eyes starting to darken as she stares blindly at the ceiling. Blood is starting to soak into Dorian's clothing where he tries to hold her down, her bandages now growing sodden.

"Solas," the Elf finally rasps, her head rolling back and forth. "Ma halani!"

"Ar amahn," a new voice says, and all three companions, twist, their eyes widening as they stare at the door; I am here.

Solas stands there, looking unlike what they've ever seen. He wears bright white fur across his chest and shoulder, his armor gold and black. He stands tall, proud, and his eyes --- there's something ---.

"Solas!" Cassandra gasps; how the hell did he get into the castle? Guards are everywhere, looking for this Elf, and he just slips right inside?

"Out of my way," Solas commands, striding forward.

Cullen and Dorian immediately stagger back, Solas eyes lingering on the red stains clinging to the mage's clothing. Cassandra hesitates, slowly lifting her hands off the Inquisitor, backing away.

"Ma vhenan, telsila tel din." Solas murmurs as he goes to the Inquisitors side; my love, worry not. He kneels on the bed beside her gasping form, his eyes flicking over the black lines running across her skin. He reaches forward, cupping her face between his long fingers. "Ir abelas."

His thumbs caress her cheeks, and after a moment her struggles lessen, her body becoming more calm. He gazes down at her sadly, his eyes drifting across her fevered form. He is almost too late, a few more moments, and she would be dead. It took him so long to get here, to avoid the guards, to find his way to her.

"Solas, what are you ---?" Cassandra starts, but he raises a hand, silencing her. She gasps silently, her hand rising to her throat as no sound leaves her lips.

"I am here for Azelia, do not trouble me." Solas orders, glancing about the room.

Cullen and Dorian are silent, staring at him; this is not the same Elf who fought beside them before.

Solas gaze returns to his heart, cradling her face once more.

"Ar juver mar nu," he murmurs; I will take your pain.

He leans forward, his lips settling firmly against hers as his eyes flare a white fitting for a spirit of the Fade.

The others in the room shield their eyes from the glare.

Solas feels the Inquisitor sigh against his lips, her body suddenly numb. He draws the poison from her veins into his own skin, feeling it war with his magic before dissipating. While it harms her, he is immune. He feels only the slightest pain before it's gone, his hand roving down to press against her wound. She makes a sound of pain at the pressure, her hand rising instinctively to curl in his armor, clenching.

Then, it's done.

The Inquisitor relaxes, and Solas lifts his lips from hers reluctantly. Her skin is clear, no longer does darkness crawl through it. He lifts his hand from her wound, palm stained a faint red. She is healed, it will trouble her no longer. His eyes trail over to her palm where it glows green, and his eyes flare for a moment more.

He hates the pain the mark causes her, but she must bare it for a little while longer. He needs her to be strong, to weather that pain while he gets everything in order. She's strong enough to not give in, and he will find her when the time is right.

He has no choice.

Seeing her like this, hearing her in the Fade, it has changed his mind on many things. He will find her when it's time, he will take her with him; if she can love him knowing that he is Fen'Harel, than perhaps she can love him when he becomes the monster intent on destroying an entire world.

"Fen'Harel ma ghilana," he whispers, seeing her eyes flutter for a few seconds. After a moment, the emeralds are gazing up at him, disoriented, still glazed.

"Solas," she murmurs, her fingers laxing in his shirt.

"Azelia, melena sulem," he says, caressing her cheek as he leans up; wait for me. He has to go now, before the others recover. He must leave Skyhold, return to his plans.

The Inquisitor gives a faint, weak smile. "Don't I always?"

Solas smiles softly.

He will always find her when she needs him.

She will always wait for him.

What a strange love they share.


End file.
